Chapter 13
Megan
You’d think telling him no three times in one day would mean something.
I quit. I’m not coming back. My answer is no.
But Jameson just studies me across the table, with that look on his face like I’m some problem yet to solve. He even waves the waiter away with a brush of his hand when he tries to check on us.
I don’t mean to offend him. Or seem ungrateful or foolish or untrusting. But maybe I am all those things.
I’m just not ready to forge ahead into some new relationship—any type of relationship—with a man I’ve just met.
Even if he is my brother’s best friend.
And even if he’s ridiculously hot.
But what did he really expect?
He “proposed” to me, if you could call this a proposal, to please his family. What he’s proposing is a fake engagement—never to turn real. Because, clearly, men like Jameson Vance don’t fall in love with women like me.
What they do is offer them business proposals, apparently.
First the room in his guest wing, then the gardening job, now this. What next, he offers to impregnate me with his firstborn, just to make his brother happy?
Maybe he can’t know it because he doesn’t know me, but this is hardly the proposal scenario of my dreams.
Dinner with a sophisticated, gorgeous man? Sure. That’s dreamworthy. But a proposal for a fake engagement where we pretend to be in love, for money?
I don’t even know where to start explaining how wrong that is for me and my hopes of future happiness.
“You don’t mean that” is his growly response to my rejection.
Good lord, he’s bossy.
“I assure you, I do. And I’m not into games. I won’t mislead you. I won’t mislead the whole world about a fake engagement either.”
A muscle slides along his jaw. “I’m not one to back down from something I want, Megan.”
Oh, boy. I tell myself not to get tingles over those words. I want.
He doesn’t want me. Just a fake fiancée.
But too late.
The tingles are rising, spreading across my skin as he informs me, “I’m looking at what I want right now. And, fair warning, I will try to get it.”
“Well, fair warning… You might fail.”
“Maybe I will,” he concedes, but his eyes burn with the challenge, making my core tingle with heat.
This whole conversation is suddenly feeling less and less like a business negotiation, and more like a proposition for filthy, possibly incredible sex. Or maybe it’s just me.
“Tell me why,” he demands.
It really shouldn’t turn me on like it does when he talks to me like that.
“Because it would never work. We’re complete opposites.”
He calmly counters, “We’re not that different.”
“Honestly, we are. No one would even believe we’re a couple.”
“Why not? You’re my best friend’s sister. We’re close in age. We’re both single and attractive.”
I clear my throat as my response to that catches. Yeah, okay. I’m attractive. Sure. But you’re…
Is there an adjective that means “so hot, I didn’t even know it existed in a fantasy sense”?
He’s hotter than the hero in my books. And Wolf is hot. He’s made up, for god’s sake.
“We’d both make a good partner,” he presses.
“How do you know what kind of partner I’d make?”
The heat of challenge in his eyes hones to a fine point as he studies me, and I struggle not to squirm. “Your brother filled me in last night, after you went to bed, about your ex.”
“Great. So he told you I’m a doormat and you decided I was an easy target?” The words come out quiet and more wounded than I want them to.
Jameson leans on the table, closing the space between us. The sleeves of his elegant shirt are casually rolled up, and the arm porn alone, along with his forearm tattoos, are enough to break me.
God, I’m so thirsty.
Be strong, Megan.
Just because it looks delicious doesn’t mean it’s safe to eat.
“No,” he says. “That’s not what I meant. The way Cole spoke about you… It sounds like you went through a lot to try to make it work. He didn’t get into details. But he made it clear that your ex didn’t deserve your efforts. Or you.”
I take a breath.
“And you know what I thought?” he goes on. “I thought you must have a really big heart to try that hard and that long without giving up on someone. It’s not your fault you chose the wrong someone. You were young when you met him, right?”
I really don’t want to talk about Troy, so I don’t. “And now you’re asking me to choose a virtual stranger. For money.”
“Not for money. Money is just a means to an end. Do it to set up your future. You deserve it, after what you’ve sacrificed this far.”
“We’re too different,” I hedge.
“How? How are we different? Do you want financial security and a nice home to live in?”
“Most people want those things. And your house is beyond nice. I have no money. The power balance is deeply disturbing to me.”
“I was born into a wealthy family. You weren’t. That’s circumstance. It hardly matters. And once you’re with me, you will have money. There’s no need to feel like I have the upper hand.”
I almost laugh.
Truly, I’m still shocked by how casually he offered me such a large amount of his money.
Two million freaking dollars.
But it’s sinking in that he’s deadly serious about this.
So am I.
We aren’t a match, even if we fake it.
Judging by the absolute deluge of Google hits Nicole scrolled through today while narrating the headlines to me and shoving the accompanying photos in my face as we got all done up for ladies’ night, Jameson Vance is a people person. A marketing exec who works with celebrities, parties with celebrities, and dates them, too. He must thrive on the attention he gets dating all those famous women.
Otherwise, why would he keep doing it, so often and so publicly?
I’ve dated one man in my entire life. That man is a carpenter who grew up in the same small town I did.
Just the thought of trying to navigate the world of Jameson Vance, billionaire, a world of red carpets, cameras, moguls and celebrities, makes me sweat. I’m shy and introverted. I make up people in my head because I often find them better company than actual people. Not to mention less harmful.
The last few years, I’ve spent as much time as I possibly can writing and hanging out with plants, to avoid people.
“I just haven’t had a chance to earn your trust yet,” he says, in that bossy way of his. “Give me some time.”
“I’m sorry, but like I said, my answer is no. Thank you, but no.”
His beautiful, kissable mouth presses into a hard, dissatisfied line. Maybe this doesn’t happen to him very often. Getting turned down. Being unable to convince a woman to give him what he wants.
He sits back, giving me a look that seems to say: You’re making a mistake, Megan Hudson.
I realize there’s no reason to finish this dinner. I don’t want there to be any expectation of anything more. My answer is no, and it’s final.
That, and the longer I sit here looking at him, the more I’m in danger of letting him change my mind.
I lay my napkin on my plate. I’m about to get up when he says, “Does Cole even know you left?”
“I’ll call him and explain that I just wanted my own space.”
“So you’re really going to live with four other girls?”
“Women,” I correct him. “Independent women. Cole will understand. I’ve always been stubborn.”
“You can stay at the house,” he says firmly. “You’ll be in the guest wing with Cole.”
Does he still think this is a negotiation?
I said no, like twenty freaking times.
“He’s gone,” I remind him. “Knowing Cole, he’ll be gone most of the summer. And then he’ll be in training camp.”
“Not that soon.”
“He’ll be in and out all the time. I know how his life is. Cole has never been one to sit still. It’s not like he’s ever really home.”
And I can’t be alone there with you.
“It can be your home,” he presses. “Just like he said. Until you’re on your feet.”
I push my chair back and stand. “I’m on my feet, okay?”
He pushes his chair back and gets up as soon as I do. Like a gentleman.
I have to look away from him to avoid the pull. The truth is, he’s a hard man to say no to.
It’s not just his looks or the magnetic attraction I feel that makes me want to linger. Or the soft spot he has for my brother.
It’s so many things.
Like the way he pursued me to Nicole’s.
And the way he focuses on me when I speak. And listened when I told him about my books.
And the things he says. Lord, the things he says. I can hear them replaying in my head even as I walk away.
I’m not one to back down from something I want, Megan.
I’m looking at what I want right now.
I probably wanted to say no before the appetizers came, but I let us draw this out. Maybe I liked the way he kept pressing me to say yes.
I mean, it was flattering, in a warped way.
“Megan.”
I stop at the sound of my name on his low voice. I’m drawn to that voice, too. I feel this hot and sticky pull to turn around, sit my ass back down, and stay. Just let myself melt into him, do whatever he tells me to do.
“Come back to the house. Please.”
Fuck me. And now he’s asking nicely.
I turn to face him again. Stay strong. “I think I’ve been clear that I’m not doing that.”
“Cole really wants you to.”
“Cole doesn’t get everything he wants.”
He stares at me for a long beat. “If you leave, it means I’ve failed him.”
I’m not even sure why that’s so important to him.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re not used to it.”
I continue across the vast room, but his voice follows me. “Wait.”
I take a breath. His hulking security guy stands in front of the door, hands clasped casually in front of him, making no move to step aside and open the door for me.
I turn back.
Jameson is crossing the room toward me, his jaw set. Clearly I’ve ruined whatever plans he had for this evening.
He stops directly in front of me and I feel desperate to get out of this room. It was hard enough to say no to him as many times as I already have.
Standing, he’s so much more imposing. I forgot how tall he is. And how hard his body is. He’s like a wall of manly and gorgeous towering over me.
He smells incredible, too.
Did I actually tell him he was a distraction?
Yeah. Pretty sure I did.
“Please call Cole like you said you would.” His voice is low and gentle now. “Let him know where you’re staying. It should come from you.”
“Of course I will.”
He glances at the security guy and nods. “Locke will arrange a car to take you where you’re going.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Since it will save me cab fare, I decide I’m not in a position to refuse this kindness. “I’d really appreciate that.”
As I hesitate to actually leave, Jameson’s blue eyes hold mine, burning into me one last time.
When will I see him again?
I hear the door open behind me, and force myself to turn and leave the restaurant.
Locke leads the way, and my pulse races when I realize Jameson is following me in silence, along the hall that will take us to the elevator and down to the lobby. And even though my stupid pounding heart kinda wants me to throw caution to the wind and just say yes… I can’t.
Because my heart has been so very wrong before.
In the elevator, he stands next to me and slightly behind, and all the way down, my stomach feels weightless and tight, gripped with this terrible foreboding that I’m making a mistake.
That I’ll never receive such a grand offer, such an opportunity to say yes to anything so life-changing, ever again.